


What’s A Little Sex Magic Between… Oh, Right

by VodouBlue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VodouBlue/pseuds/VodouBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchester brothers need to counter magic with magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What’s A Little Sex Magic Between… Oh, Right

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS: mention of something small that places this sometime unspecified after 2x14, “Born Under A Bad Sign.”
> 
> Although some of the names, phrases and references used herein are real, I totally made up this whole scenario. Complete BS, okay? Just so we’re clear. No disrespect intended to any actual practitioners of sex magic.
> 
> ORIGINAL POSTING DATE: 08/09/10
> 
> DEDICATION: smut_slut asked me for more porn; does that make this her fault? *snicker* Also, my most heartfelt love and hugs to lylithj2 for convincing me not to salt and burn this, and for being a fabulous sounding-board.

“Now that’s just wrong,” Dean declared, shaking his head. “She’s turning straight dudes gay _why_?”

“Witches can channel sexual energy to power their spells,” Sam informed his brother. “This one’s figured out how to steal other people’s sexual energy for herself.”

“Doesn’t answer my question, Sammy,” Dean pointed out.

“Best guess?” Sam shrugged. “Because she has more influence over men, and can whammy them into going at it more often, with less effort on her part. Likely there’s also an extra boost from the coercion too, making them do something they wouldn’t have chosen on their own.”

“Plus, she probably gets off on watching two dudes get it on,” Dean snorted derisively.

“We need to come up with a spell-breaker that’s good enough to unravel the curses she’s laid on those men, plus be powerful enough to sever her spellbook’s demonic connection. After that, we just let the demon eat her.” Sam shrugged. That last part galled him, but she had voluntarily made a deal; it was her own fault what the consequences would be.

“Why can’t we just break in and burn the damn spellbook?” Dean asked again.

“Don’t you ever listen?” Sam huffed in annoyance. “Because even if we could get through all the magical wards and booby traps she’s got all over her house, it’s magically protected; it _won’t_ burn. We need a mystical way in.”

“Where we gonna get that kind of mojo, Sammy?”

@@@o0o@@@

“Sex magic? Seriously?” Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow at his little brother.

“It’s either that or death magic,” Sam countered. “’The fluid of life’, y’know? That’s either blood or ejaculate.”

Dean sighed. “Right. And we’re not gonna go gank someone just to stop this crazy witch,” he agreed. He thought for a moment, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth briefly before asking, “It’s gonna need a whole bunch of ritual symbols and stuff, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, probably,” Sam nodded. “I’ll have to do more research, but I can’t imagine it _not_ needing symbolic objects, at the very least. Why?”

“Because we’re never gonna be able to talk some chick we pick up in a bar into ignoring all the incense and altars and crap and just do one of us.” An alternate possibility struck him. “We could _rent_ a girl, I guess,” he shrugged. Prostitutes weren’t really his favorite option, but beggars can’t be choosers, he figured.

“Uh, actually…” Sam sighed and ran his hand nervously across the back of his head. “We can do it ourselves.” He shuffled some of his notes around to cover his embarrassment.

“Come again?” Dean prompted, eyebrows raised, head cocked.

Sam sighed and looked up, facing his older sibling and squaring his shoulders. “I said we can do it ourselves.” Dean gave an odd little twitch and Sam continued gamely. “There’s gonna be paraphernalia which will probably be scary-looking to an average person. Not even a hooker is going to want anything to do with a set-up that looks like a serial killer put it together.” At Dean’s agreeing nod, he added, “Plus, to make our counter-spell work, we’re gonna have to do visualizations. Working girls are gonna be visualizing all the wrong things, y’know? Like how much she hates her job or something.”

Sam shook his head dismissively at the whole prostitute idea and turned back to the books scattered across the table while he let Dean think it over. Oddly, he wasn’t actually put off by the idea of sex with Dean. Once he had gotten past the initial shock of the forbidden thought, he was kind of okay with it. He wasn’t attracted to guys in general, but this was _Dean_. They were partners in everything else, so…

“Don’t we need that dichotomy thing?” Dean asked, choosing to ignore for the moment the whole ‘having gay incest’ issue. “You know, the God/Goddess representation -- to make this work?”

Sam was surprised; he didn’t think his brother knew enough about Magick (yes, with a ‘k’) to come up with that. He gave the question the serious, thoughtful answer it deserved.

“From what I can tell,” he began, “the witch we’re dealing with is a radical Dianic practitioner; she isn’t interested in worshipping the God, only the Goddess. Which leaves her vulnerable to being countered with all-male energy.” Then he added, “Plus, whichever guy is bottoming is essentially _being_ the Union Of Opposites.”

“That’d be you,” Dean asserted confidently, starting to smirk.

“No, pretty sure that’d be _you_ , Dean,” Sam contradicted. Before his brother could do more than huff out an indignant breath, Sam added, “I know _aaall_ about that girl in Toledo.” Referring to one of his brother’s more colorful sexual exploits. “And the one in Seattle,” he added. “And the one in New Orleans.”

“All right, all right!” Dean grumbled. “Jeez, Sammy.” Who knew that regaling his little brother with the dirty details of his sex life would come back to bite him in the ass (eye-roll) like this? So he’d had a few girls who liked to share their toys, so what?

Well, apparently that left _him_ as the qualified one to --what did Sam call it?-- be the Union Of Opposites.

Dean blew out a breath. Now all he had to do was get over the idea of fucking Sammy and… His mind ground to a halt on that one, trying to shy away. Okay, so maybe that part’s gonna be a little tough. He switched to the easier part of the problem.

“Yeah, but chicks with vibrators aren’t the same as doing some dude,” he pointed out. “I don’t know dick about… well, dick.”

Sam was willing to dodge the big elephant in the room for the time being and focus on the smaller one.

“I’ve got something here about that,” he said, digging around for his copy of ‘ _The Paris Working_ ’ and opening it to the place he had marked earlier. “Here.” He passed it over to Dean. “This describes some homosexual sex magic methods.”

“Aleister Crowley, huh?” Dean noted aloud, after glancing at the spine. “Guy was a freak.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “but he knew a lot about ritual sex.”

@@@o0o@@@

“I still say this is nuts,” Dean pronounced, putting down the tome. “How is two brothers fucking going to produce _good_ magic? Isn’t it too… wrong?”

“We’re dealing with Chaos Magic, here, Dean,” Sam informed him. “Really, the only important part about it is that the partners trust each other.” He shrugged. “Who do we trust more than each other?”

“Good point,” Dean conceded, still trying to wrap his head around the idea of having sex with _Sam_. “So, orgasms aren’t important then?” he teased.

“Yes, Dean, the orgasms are important,” Sam responded on an exasperated huff, rolling his eyes. “In ritualistic sex magic,” he lectured, “the conceptual basis is that semen is the most powerful magical fluid.” Then he added, “Which is yet _another_ reason why having two men perform this counter-spell is the best choice.”

“Double whammy, so to speak,” Dean interjected. Sam nodded affirmatively. “So what else do we need? Can’t just be all butt-sex, otherwise San Francisco would be lit up like a supernatural Christmas tree.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but took the question seriously. “Fortunately, the trappings are mostly things we can easily get or make.” He shoved aside copies of ‘ _Fraternus Saturnus_ ’, ‘ _Secrets Of The Sex Magicians_ ’ and ‘ _Modern Sex Magic_ ’ to pass over his shopping list and the sketches he had already worked out. “We need a phallic totem altar.” He leaned over and pointed to the relevant notes. Dean snorted in amusement. “And we need to prepare a proper sacred atmosphere before we get to the sigil inscribing.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean nodded, flipping the loose sheets of paper back and forth, taking it all in. “Then what?”

“For the ritual itself, we’re going to need to be in the proper mindset.”

“And how are we gonna do that?” Dean interrupted.

“Well, we could try Tantric sex while I chant in Sanskrit at you, in an attempt to get you to an altered state of consciousness.”

“That’d probably make me fall asleep,” Dean smirked.

“Yeah, not really the altered state of consciousness we’re going for,” Sam replied dryly.

Apparently, Dean wasn’t going to freak out about the ritual either. With that worry gone, Sam was better able to concentrate on making this crazy thing work.

@@@o0o@@@

Finally, Sam couldn’t stand it; he just had to ask. “I thought you’d be freaking out more.”

“Yeah, well, so did I,” Dean answered. “But it’s just you, and it’s just sex, so…” He shrugged. Then something occurred to him. “Hey! Why aren’t _you_ freaking out?”

“It’s just you, and it’s just sex,” Sam parroted, mirroring his older brother’s shrug. “Not like we’re gonna hurt each other.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded in agreement. Then he added, “Plus, I’m trying not to think too much about it.”

“Same here,” Sam agreed.

“Wait a minute,” Dean said suddenly.

‘ _Here it comes_ ,’ Sam thought, slumping on a sigh. ‘ _So much for not freaking out_.’

“How come the witch won’t be able to steal the magic from us when we do this?”

Sam covered his startlement by defaulting to bratty-little-brother mode.

“Because she hasn’t cursed _us_ , dumbass,” he huffed, rolling his eyes like it was the stupidest question in creation. “She doesn’t have a hook preset into us. _And_ we’re going to be inside of magical protections,” he added, shaking his head.

“I was just asking. Bitch,” Dean murmured.

“Jerk,” Sam retorted automatically, smiling.

Yeah, they could do this.

@@@o0o@@@

When it came time to pick out how they would position their bodies, Dean finally objected to something.

“I _know_ we have to face each other, Sammy,” Dean huffed in exasperation. “‘Cause of the sigil placement and everything. That’s not my problem.”

“Then what is your problem?” Sam demanded, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I don’t…” Dean broke off. Crap, he was gonna have to talk about this. He gave himself a moment to reset, took a deep breath and admitted, “I don’t want you layin’ on top of me, dude. That just… that just weirds me out. You’re such a freakin’ Sasquatch.”

“Okay, Dean,” Sam conceded, amused. “Let’s look in the book again. There’s gotta be a way.”

@@@o0o@@@

At last, the stage was set.

The blue tarp they had bought at the hardware store was covered with the appropriate glyphs and symbols in white paint. The multi-colored candles were arranged on it at the cardinal points of the warding circle and lit, accompanied by the appropriate chanting.

The phallic totem altar was arrayed across the top of the dresser. (and hadn’t _that_ been a fun trip to the sex shop? Dean was _still_ laughing about it) Dean’s favorite hunting knife was making an appearance from under his pillow, placed on the makeshift altar, along with a red pillar candle and the penis-shaped lollipops they had gotten when they bought the (oh, god) _giant_ black rubber dildo. A cucumber, some bananas, a loaf of French bread and Sam’s .45 finished it off.

Next on the checklist was clearing and calming their minds. They decided the best way to do that was to go for a run. Returning all sweaty and dirty had naturally led into the next step: cleansing and purifying their bodies.

They thoroughly bathed each other with a mixture of sea salt, various herbs and bottled water. (which turned out to be the most expensive item they’d had to acquire, after the dildo. price-gouging Ozarka nazis!)

Following that came the ‘banishing evil from the sacred space’, which basically entailed laying salt lines and flicking holy water all over the motel room while chanting (more freakin’ chanting!) and waving a smoldering sage smudge around.

Then it was time for the sigil. Sam carefully described the magical shape onto Dean’s forehead with spit. Yes, spit. The sigil needed to be composed of bodily fluids, and really, spit was the least gross option. Boy, wasn’t it gonna be a sight when they had to charge that sign with semen later, though. The mental image of marking Dean with his come had Sam’s breath hitching in unexpected anticipation.

“Remember the mindset,” Sam admonished, as he finished the last line sweeping across his brother’s brow. “Love, trust, and set aside our egos. Don’t hold back. Let the sensuality flow.”

“Yeah, yeah; I got it, Sammy,” Dean replied. “Uninhibited, no-holds-barred, wild monkey-sex.” He gave his brother his best grin. Sam couldn’t help but respond to it, smiling back, relaxing almost despite himself.

Then it was time to get serious.

Sam knelt inside the sacred circle and sat on his heels, mentally reviewing what they needed to do. It helped that they had to concentrate on the magical outcome they wanted; left less room for over-thinking what they were about to do with each other.

Dean put a hand on his brother’s sturdy shoulder for balance and stepped across, straddling Sam’s thighs, lowering himself down until his butt rested on Sam’s strong quad muscles. Sam helped steady him as he leaned back, resting his shoulder blades on the tarp. His bowlegs fell to the sides, loosely bracketing his taller brother’s trim waist. Sam grasped Dean’s hips and tugged him closer, until Dean’s muscular ass was snugged against his groin.

‘ _Your anus and rectum contain almost as many nerve endings as your other erogenous zones,_ ’ Sam’s mind repeated, recalling what the bi-curious website had said. It helped calm his worry that Dean was going to hate it, despite his claims of previous pleasurable experiences. He dipped out some of the ‘Boy Butter Personal Lubricant’ (thanks, Dean, for picking out the most ridiculous lube in the store) from the jar and gently swiped it over his older brother’s flexing hole.

Dean let out a quiet, involuntary noise and settled more comfortably on Sam’s lap, concentrating on relaxing and just accepting the sensations. Which were pretty freakin’ good, actually. Sammy was being careful but not shy. Dean had almost forgotten how much he enjoyed having his asshole played with. At first, all Sam did was trail his finger lightly around the crinkled edge of the twitching muscle. Then he let the pad of his index finger press gently at the center, teasing, testing, not trying to penetrate.

Dean groaned and pushed his butt a little closer, encouraging. His hole relaxed and Sam’s slick finger sank in past the nail bed. He grunted a little at the intrusion and gripped the side of Sam’s thigh, wriggling his hips a little in an attempt to get closer, make that finger sink in deeper.

‘ _Jesus Christ, it’s so fucking tight_!’ Sam thought, as he slid his finger out and back in, probing farther inside, hearing Dean’s soft moan. Sam rotated the digit, stroking the soft tissue of Dean’s insides. Dean squirmed and raised his leg, resting his heel on Sam’s shoulder, opening himself wide for his little brother. His hips started to rock ever so slightly. It was amazing to just relax and accept the stimulation from his partner.

Suddenly, Dean stiffened, sucking in an involuntary breath as Sam’s finger hit the spot.

The pad of Sam’s index finger stroked across the wrinkled chestnut of Dean’s prostate. It was almost startling to watch Dean seize all over. He did it again. Dean shuddered and moaned. Sam grinned as he reached his other hand forward to stroke Dean’s burgeoning erection.

Dean groaned at the intimate touches up and down his shaft, wide palm and talented digits occasionally drifting high enough to smear around the precome leaking from his sensitive crown. It was kinda weird, having a large, rough hand that wasn’t his own on his junk, but Sammy’s grip was warm and sure, not timid. It felt fantastic, stroking up and down his hard-on, massaging his balls, tugging and teasing in the best way. The sensations melded with the sparking rush of the prostate stimulation.

“Another,” Dean grunted eventually, demanding more. He hoped Sammy figured out he meant more fingers inside; he didn’t think he could form more words than that. The finger withdrew and he whimpered (did not!) at the empty feeling. But then two of those long, thick digits stretched his opening. He groaned loudly and writhed in sensual bliss as those strong fingers massaged his prostate while Sam’s other hand played with his dick.

His brother’s opening stretched obligingly, welcoming more of Sam’s fingers as he probed the elastic hole. Looked like Dean had been telling the truth about how good it felt; his older brother was gasping and groaning and writhing and grinding wantonly, like this was the best feeling ever.

Sam couldn’t wait to find out what would happen when he pushed his dick inside.

Dean grumbled wordlessly in protest when Sam disengaged his hands; the loss of stimulation was almost shocking. Then Sam grabbed his hips and lifted. Dean dropped his foot to the mat and pressed his heels against the floor to support some of his own weight while Sammy pressed his erection against the tightness and slowly eased inside.

Dean let out a whine of pleasure at the slight burn and feeling of fullness. Sam stilled, pausing for a few beats, then he eased out and slowly eased back in. He let out a whoof of breath like he’d been gut-punched, abs contracting involuntarily, leaning him slightly over Dean’s heaving torso. Sam rotated his hips in little circles, pushing his way further and further into the tight, clenching orifice.

Then his hands clamped down in a ferocious grip on Dean’s hips and he shoved in to the hilt.

Dean’s entire body arched and he cried out sharply, scrabbling for purchase as Sam began pumping in and out of him with abandon.

Sweat spread along their skin as they grunted and panted. Precome leaked in a steady flow from the tip of Dean’s shaft, trailing wet and warm stickiness all over his stomach. He wrapped his legs around Sam’s hips for better leverage, groaning and gasping as he bucked harder and ever more frantically against his little brother’s groin.

They built speed until Sam was practically slamming into the pliant body draped over his thighs. He was so close! He reached forward and stroked Dean’s hard tool, fondling his balls as he fucked his ass. Dean’s head and shoulders pressed harder against the floor as he gave a strangled cry and his whole body clenched, hard! Waves of pleasure swamped his senses; he dug his fingers into his brother’s muscular thighs, grinding his hips up into Sam’s hand and impaling himself further on that hard, pistoning dick. So hot! Little brother was so fucking hot! He never would have imagined sex with Sam would feel like this.

“Oh, god,” Sam moaned, feeling Dean’s sphincter squeeze around his shaft as his older brother climaxed. ‘ _The anus contracts just as other sexual parts do during orgasmic release,_ ’ he recalled from his research, unbidden. ‘ _Boy, does it ever!_ ’ he mentally agreed, as that strong, smooth band of muscle practically strangled his manhood.

Dean shot like a geyser, coming across his own stomach and chest, painting himself in streaks of white.

Sam released his right hand’s death grip from his older brother’s hipbone and reached forward, scooping up the still-warm spend and tracing a secondary sigil right over Dean’s heart, then covered it with his large palm, fingers brushing the edge of the black anti-possession tattoo as he intoned the ritual words to charge the magical glyph. Dean’s breathless voice joined in, as his tremoring hand reached from Sam’s thigh to cover his younger sibling’s big hand on his heaving chest. They felt the tingle of magical energy race along their skins, pooling in their joined groins. Pulsing. Waiting.

Sam’s turn.

He pulled out and crawled over his brother’s sweaty, lax body, straddling him across the shoulders and taking himself in hand. He looked down into Dean’s sex-blown eyes as he stroked himself vigorously. His lust-fogged brain was too sluggish to decipher what Dean’s sudden change of expression meant, before his older brother took action.

As Sammy gazed down at him, breath heaving his muscular chest, making his tattoo dance while he worked himself over, Dean got a devilish gleam in his eye and a mischievous smirk bowed his lips a mere second before he lifted his head up off the rune-covered tarp, stuck his tongue out and flicked the wet, pointed tip just barely against his brother’s scrotum.

Dean scarcely had time to let his head thunk back down into place before Sam bellowed and shot like a horse. Dean shut his eyes protectively as he felt the warm spend stripe his face, painting across his forehead, nose, lip and chin.

Once the sticky fluid made contact with the invisible sigil gracing Dean’s brow, a flare of prickling energy raced just below the surface of their skins. They could feel it scooping up the energy pooled in their bellies from their earlier exertions, slithering along their nerves, gathering and unifying all the magical power.

“Focus on the outcome we want,” Sam coached, fighting the urge to just topple over; he had to remain inside the sacred circle until the spell was complete. He scooted backward and let his drained body sag across his brother’s sweaty frame. “Picture all the hooks and lines from her spellbook snapping and unraveling.”

Dean nodded agreement and concentrated, trying not to let the sensation of being smothered under _Gigantor, here!_ distract him from the task at hand.

There was no sound in the room except their panting and the crinkle of the tarp beneath their shifting weights as the brothers visualized the desired effect.

All at once, the mystical energy swirling through their systems rushed away, leaving a disconcerting impression of vacuum in its wake.

Sam finally rolled to the side, but still crowded his brother so as to remain inside the circle.

“Last part,” he panted, head lolling exhaustedly across Dean’s bicep.

As their bodies sagged into post-orgasmic relaxation, they murmured their gratitude to The Deity for the fulfillment of their wish.

Then it was time for a nap.

@@@o0o@@@

“Think maybe we overdid it a little?” Dean asked conversationally, from their vantage point across the street. Sam shook his head in wonder as he gazed at the still-smoking, burned-out crater where the witch’s house used to be.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here,” he prompted, nudging Dean into motion by knocking their shoulders together companionably. They turned in synch and headed for the Impala.

“Man! Didja hafta be so vigorous, Sammy?” Dean groused, shifting around uncomfortably in his jeans. “I’m walkin’ bowlegged here.”

“You’re always bowlegged, Dean,” Sam pointed out.

“Shut up, Bitch,” Dean retorted without heat.

“Jerk,” Sam smiled back.

They grinned at each other over the Impala’s gleaming black roof, then saddled up and rode off into the sunset.

“Hey, Sammy? We didn’t just mystically dedicate ourselves to the big gay sex god, did we?”

“Quit hogging all the penis-pops, Dean! Hey, you got any _Village People_ tapes in here?”

~End


End file.
